


at the edge of chaos

by sharkfish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dinosaurs, Dinosaurs, M/M, Paleontologist Cas, Photographer Dean Winchester, Trans Character, Trans Dean Winchester, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29662515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/pseuds/sharkfish
Summary: They saw some dinosaurs in the fly-over the day before, so Dean knew he was really, actually, truly going to see real, actual, true dinosaurs, but he still almost drops his camera in the mud when the first stegosaurus comes out of the trees.Stunned, Dean says, “I’m going to win a Pulitzer.”Equally stunned, Cas says, “How do I go back to bones after this?”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 34
Kudos: 205





	at the edge of chaos

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to oriana for help & cheerleading
> 
> there are references to jurassic park for funsies, but i don't consider this a jurassic park au. 
> 
> i made up everything about the dinosaurs. if crichton can do it, so can i. 
> 
> **“At the edge of chaos, unexpected outcomes occur.”** ian malcolm

When Dean turns his phone off of airplane mode, there’s a single text waiting for him.

**Charlie:** Seriously, fuck the money. Don’t do it. 

Dean rolls his eyes.

**Dean:** There are no dinosaurs, Charlene. 

A representative from the Talbot Foundation picks Dean up from the airport in a fancy car to take him to a fancy hotel for the night. The fancy room service is on the company, so Dean gorges himself, knowing his food choices are probably going to be drastically reduced for the next couple of weeks. They told him to be prepared for the great outdoors, though all the necessary supplies would be on Talbot. They’re spending a lot on this little trip for a couple of guys to tromp around the jungle for awhile. 

Dean spends a fully enjoyable forty-five minutes in the fancy shower in the morning — if it’s going to be his last real one for awhile, he’s going to enjoy it, dammit — before the same representative collects him and takes him to a small conference room in the hotel. The biologist is already waiting in the room, looking uncomfortable in ugly khaki shorts and hiking boots. That makes two of them, though at least Dean’s shorts aren’t quite as ugly. 

“Hey, man,” Dean says, holding out a hand. “Dean Winchester.” 

The biologist looks up and Dean tries not to blush under the eyes of what he suddenly realizes is a very handsome man. He’s not sure if this is a good or bad development, considering what an idiot he is around good-looking men. 

“Cas Novak,” the guy says, giving Dean’s hand a firm shake. “Paleontologist.” 

“Wait, you’re a —” Dean starts, but at that moment, a woman enters the room. 

She’s the kind of person that commands attention without needing to ask for it, wearing the kind of heels she could murder someone in. As if to emphasize it, the soles are red. “Good morning, gentlemen,” she says in a crisp British accent. “Let’s get started.” 

Dean and Cas take a seat at the expansive conference room table, but Bela stays standing. “I’m Bela Talbot, as you may have surmised. Thank you for agreeing to this little expedition.” 

Dean and Cas both make non-committal noises of agreement. 

“I would like to start by saying that my grandfather was a genius, the smartest man I’ve ever met, but like most geniuses, he was also a victim to extreme hubris and a certain amount of insanity.” Dean snorts, but is immediately cowed by Bela’s expression. He feels like shrinking down in his seat. 

“While he did the majority of his business under the Talbot name, a significant amount of money was funneled into his side project, InGen. The richest company no one has ever heard of.” 

Dean glances over and Cas has his head tilted to the side, brow furrowed. “I believe InGen sponsored several digs I worked on in the late 90s.” 

“You are correct,” Bela says. “My grandfather was quite enamored with your work. Don’t ask me why.” 

The screen behind her lights up with an artist rendition of a huge wooden gate, red and grey Jeeps lined up in front and the words  _ JURASSIC PARK _ proudly displayed over the fence. “My grandfather wanted to build a dinosaur theme park,” Bela says. “Animatronics had been done, but he was convinced his money could buy the ‘logical’ next step: living dinosaurs.” 

“Uhh,” Dean says, thinking about Charlie pounding on his door in the middle of the night after her hackathon into the Talbot systems. “Come again?” 

Bela raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “My grandfather genetically engineered dinosaurs, Mr. Winchester.” 

The slide changes. Now it’s a photo, an aerial view of a massive green plain, full of… 

“Is that —” Cas jumps to his feet, approaching the projector with a squint. 

“Dinosaurs,” Bela confirms. “Living and breathing.” 

The projector flashes additional photos, all the same aerial view, the dinosaurs small below the camera, but no question what they are. 

“There is no theme park, of course, and there never will be. I don’t share my grandfather’s weakness of sentimentality and have no interest in taking on that level of liability. However, information is needed, and that’s where the two of you come in.” 

Cas looks broken, staring at the pictures like he’s speechless with the amount of questions he has. Dean, on the other hand, has no thoughts in his brain at all. Static.  _ Dinosaurs.  _

“This is an unprecedented opportunity to explore an ecosystem’s worth of extinct species. You’ll be able to advance the field of paleontology more in a couple of weeks than has been done since the discovery of the first fossil.” 

“How likely is it we get eaten instead?” Dean says. 

“What happened to your sense of adventure, Mr. Winchester?” Bela says, mocking. “Is spending time with Simba as dangerous as you’re willing to go?” 

“To be clear,” Cas says. “I’ll take the risk.” 

“Yeah, you’re probably jizzing your pants over it. I prefer to remain not-eaten, thanks.” 

Bela smiles tightly at Dean before turning to Cas. “Dr. Novak, we have other options for photographers. I’ll have my team make a couple of —” 

“Hold up,” Dean says. “If this nerd’s not backing out, neither am I.” Cas scowls. Dean flashes him a shit-eating grin. “Hell, maybe it’ll be fun.” 

A helicopter takes them to Isla Sorna, circling first over the island to show off the cliffs, the jungles and plains, the beach and concrete building just off it where the copter lands. And then Dean and Cas are left alone with their personal effects and binders full of information on the island’s inhabitants.  _ The records are incomplete,  _ Bela said, and it rings through Dean’s brain as he does his best to focus on the dossier of each known species.

There’s a goddamn T-rex. 

It’s too late to do much but hunker down for the night anyway. Dean is pleasantly surprised to find electricity — even hot water — in the building, though it’s comforts don’t extend much further. A sleeping bag on concrete is probably going to be better than the saggy-springed cots tucked into the corner of the two-room structure. 

Cas says basically nothing. He doesn’t spend much time with his copy of the binder, either, but just paces. 

“Dude,” Dean says, sometime late evening. “You want to chill out?” 

In the distance, there’s a roar. Dean’s hair stands on end. It’s much, much bigger than any sound a lion has ever made. 

“Do you plan on being supremely annoying for the next two weeks?” 

“Hey, fuck you. I’m not the one wearing a hole in the floor.” 

Cas glares, but after a moment, his shoulders sag. “I apologize. It’s just — I never dreamed of anything like this. There’s theoretical talk of course, so I may have  _ dreamed,  _ but I didn’t imagine it actually happening in my lifetime.” 

“No shit. Not exactly what I expected when I got offered an insane amount of money to take some pictures in the jungle.” 

Cas’s mouth twitches into what might be a smile. “I’m concerned about the incomplete records.” 

“Me too. Is there something worse than a T-rex that might be out there and they don’t know it?” 

“Oh, yes. There could be.” 

“Fuck, we’re totally going to get eaten.” 

Cas laughs. And it’s not like Dean doesn’t make people laugh all the time — he’s charming, dammit — but it feels different with Cas. Maybe because Cas has seemed so serious up until now, wearing a perpetual frown. “If we’re careful…” 

“Well. Which one’s on your bucket list, then? The one you want to see before we’re dino chow.” 

“Triceratops.” 

Dean shudders. “No thanks. Almost got my ass destroyed by some rhinos a couple of years ago. Anyone who thinks herbivores are safer than carnivores is a moron.” 

“Do you spend a lot of time in Africa?” 

“Mostly Kenya. Had a great time in Zambia a few months ago, spent a couple summers in Canada with the bears. Wherever the animals are good, that’s where I’m at.” Dean offers a smile and Cas smiles back. “But lions will always be my first love.” 

“Hence Bela’s Simba comment.” 

“She’s kind of an asshole, isn’t she?” 

Cas laughs. Dean preens, again. “I won’t disagree.” 

Silence except the sound of Cas’s pacing feet for a few minutes, and then Dean drops the binder, groaning. “I think I’m going to rely on your expert knowledge on these things. I can’t fit any more dino information in my head right now.” 

“What if I get eaten first?” 

“Then I’m fucked, but what else is new?” 

Cas smiles. Dean smiles back, realizes it probably looks a little dopey and pathetic, and pulls himself out of it. “So, uh,” Dean says, scratching the back of his neck. “Think I’ll hit the hay. Early morning tomorrow.” 

“Yes, of course,” Cas says, but Dean figures Cas won’t sleep at all. At least Dean can catch a few winks. 

Cas wants to walk to the big plain first, but that’s a good seven miles away, so Dean convinces him to explore a little closer to the safety of their concrete bunker on day one. They overfill their packs — just in case — and head out just as dawn is starting to filter through the trees to the jungle below. 

They stay quiet, walking to the soundtrack of uncountable bird species and who knows what else, for a long time. It’s not until they reach a little stream that they see evidence of megafauna — there’s a trail of trampled trees created by something much, much bigger than a deer. 

There’s the distinct ground-shaking Dean associates with a herd of elephants, except  _ more.  _ Cas is an idiot and turns to walk towards it, but Dean grabs him by the sleeve and they both duck behind a hollowed-out log big enough for them both to climb inside with room to breathe. That seems good to know in case they’re about to see something that will drool over their weak human bodies. 

They saw some dinosaurs in the fly-over the day before, so Dean knew he was really, actually, truly going to see real, actual, true dinosaurs, but he still almost drops his camera in the mud when the first stegosaurus comes out of the trees. 

“Jesus Christ,” they both breathe out at the same time. 

Dean’s brain spits out what is probably the only knowledge he managed to remember from the night before:  _ Stegosaurus stenops. Up to 30’ from head to spiked tail. Up to 14,000 pounds. Herbivore. Probably dumb as hell.  _

The water in the creek ripples as the animals approach it. They just keep coming: three, then five, then Dean loses count staring at the gentle fan of the plates along their spines. 

“Look,” Cas says, pointing as a juvenile stomps its way into the water, then circles to stomp again. Dean knows that look: play. It’s  _ playing.  _ Another juvenile joins it. 

“You knew we’d see juvies,” Dean says. 

“Knowing isn’t  _ seeing,”  _ Cas whispers back, then stands to get a better look. Dean almost jerks him back down, but ends up standing himself, leaning over the log for better photos. 

Dean pauses in the  _ click-click-click  _ of his camera to dig in his pack for the handheld video camera. He fiddles with it for a minute, then shoves it in Cas’s hands. “Just point it at the damn dinosaurs,” he says when Cas gives him a questioning look. 

Despite Bela’s jabs, Dean’s sense of adventure wasn’t left behind on the mainland. He climbs up on the log to get a better view, still snapping pictures. One of the juveniles catches sight of him and starts to amble over curiously before being nudged on by one of the adults. Otherwise, the animals don’t acknowledge Dean and Cas standing fifty feet away at all. 

Finally they’re gone. Dean and Cas both stand in open-mouthed silence, watching the space where they disappeared long past when the earth-shaking steps have faded. 

Stunned, Dean says, “I’m going to win a Pulitzer.” 

Equally stunned, Cas says, “How do I go back to bones after this?” 

Dean looks down at him, grinning. “Let’s go find more.” 

They stay within a couple miles of the bunker for the first few days. Cas points out the previously-extinct plants that Bela didn’t tell them would be there and Dean takes pictures of everything, even just the midday light streaking through the trees, illuminating Cas’s face, making his eyes nearly glow. 

Cas scowls when he catches Dean taking pictures of him, but doesn’t tell him to stop. Dean has an excuse handy, anyway:  _ You don’t want photographic evidence of you tracking dinosaurs in a prehistoric jungle?  _

The second dinosaur they see is, to Dean’s pants-pissing (almost) terror, a tyrannosaurus rex. They’re at the creek again. A single pair of earth-trembling steps approach from not-far-enough away. Dean and Cas crouch behind a tree after a silent eyebrow argument about where the hell to hide, but probably nowhere is good enough when you’re hiding from a forty foot beast that can run thirty miles an hour. 

Dean curses that he never took up running, like that would make a difference with a hungry dinosaur on your tail. 

The T-rex roars and the trees shake with it. And then it comes stomping through the game trail, swinging it’s massive head back and forth as if looking for something. 

_ Oh god,  _ Dean thinks,  _ is it looking for us?  _

Dean takes pictures on instinct. It’s not so different than facing down a lion pride, considering they could kill just as easy as a T-rex. The only difference is that with lions, there might be remains to identify. 

Cas’s hand grips Dean’s bicep so hard his nails bite into Dean’s skin. Dean tries to shake him off to no avail.  _ Click-click-click  _ goes the camera. 

The tyrannosaur bends and drinks with a tongue nearly the size of a whole fucking person. It’s teeth are huge and it’s whole muzzle is stained red. Dean reminds himself that if he doesn’t get himself killed, he’ll get himself every photography award in the world. Enough of them to crush the assholes in his life who said he’d never amount to much. 

“She’s beautiful,” Cas whispers, barely a sound at all. 

“You’re insane,” Dean whispers back, but secretly agrees. 

The tyrannosaur seems to stare right at them. Dean stops breathing, stops moving, even his heart stops beating. 

And then she leaves. 

Dean’s hands are shaking. 

Cas gasps in air. 

“We just saw a fucking T-rex.” 

“We’re the only humans to ever see one,” Cas says. “Can you believe —?”

“Not really.” 

“You’re going to win a Pulitzer.” 

Dean snorts a laugh. “You’re going to win — whatever paleontologists win.” 

Cas’s smile is almost drunk with wonder. Dean thinks he probably doesn’t look much different and, on impulse, he throws an arm around Cas’s shoulders and squeezes. 

Back in the bunker, after they’ve chatted idly through their MREs, Dean says, “You like whiskey?” 

“Yes?” It’s almost a question, like Cas isn’t sure where this is going. 

“Well, I snuck in a bottle to celebrate us still being alive after seeing a fucking terrifying dinosaur. You in?” 

“Absolutely.” 

Dean digs the bottle out of his trunk — it wasn’t so much snuck in as lie-of-omission, because he thinks they probably would’ve told him to leave it at home if he had mentioned it — and hands it to Cas. 

Cas takes a sip, hums happily, then takes a larger drink before passing to Dean. Dean drinks more than he’d like to admit, so he’s still barely buzzed while Cas is fully drunk, full of goofy smiles and loud laughter. 

“You want to hear something awful?” Cas asks, leaning towards Dean, conspiratorial. 

“Hit me.” 

“I’m fully aware this is a very, very, dangerous expedition, and my last sexual encounter was mediocre and so long ago I might as well be a —” Cas hiccups “— virgin again.”

Dean leans closer, like they’re bent over a secret. “Why so long? You’re a good-looking guy.”  _ Understatement of the year, jackass,  _ Dean thinks. 

Cas sighs with so much drama it makes Dean laugh. “I’m not good with people.” 

“You seem to be doin’ ok with me.” Dean takes the bottle out of his hands and gulps. “Hell, I might even like you.” 

Cas laughs, head tilted back with mirth, and Dean joins in until they’re both giggling about nothing. It’s fun, something Dean hasn’t done in a long, long time. 

When the laughter dies down, Cas says, “We have to go to the plains tomorrow.” 

“It’ll be a long walk. Think you can handle it, Dr. Novak?” 

“I run marathons. I think I can handle it.” 

Grinning, Dean says, “It’s a date.” 

They cross paths with the stegosaurs again, milling about munching at leaves, and they stop to watch for a long time, Cas taking notes and Dean taking pictures and video. When the dinosaurs move on, so do Dean and Cas, heading further inland. They catch sight of a small pack of compsognathus too, but they’re too quick to get any pictures. 

Mile seven, they walk up a hill long enough that they’re both out of breath, and then they’re at the top of a ridge overlooking the gently rolling hills of the Isla Sorna plains, dotted with trees with a man-made lake in the center. 

And it’s teeming with life. More than one kind of sauropod — Dean’s not sure how to tell the difference — a large group of aralosaurus, minmes, and a small herd of triceratops. 

“Look!” Dean says, too loud, pointing at them. 

Cas’s mouth drops open. “They’re so beautiful.” 

“Yeah,” Dean says, “they really are.” 

Dean kneels to dig through his pack for his zoom lens. He looks at the dinosaurs through it, taking picture after picture while Cas stands next to him without moving. 

“Gonna take some notes there, Casanova?” Dean says after a few silent moments. 

“I don’t know where to start,” Cas says. “The brachiosaurus — look how they move. We’ve always thought they were sluggish, lumbering, but they’re — warm-blooded. They have to be.” 

Out comes Cas’s notepad from his pack, and he starts scribbling notes, hardly looking away from the dinosaurs as he does it. Dean takes more pictures, and then video of the whole scene, groups of herbivores existing peacefully side-by-side. 

Every few minutes, Cas murmurs something about how wrong the entire field of paleontology has been about this or that, and Dean indulges him with smiles. Cas is kind of adorable, lit up with excitement, and Dean looks away from the dinosaurs to take a few pictures of him. 

Cas looks over and Dean says, blushing a little, “For posterity.” 

“Should I take some of you as well?” 

“You think I’m going to let you touch my camera?” Dean says. “We can do it selfie-style.” 

Dean turns around the camera, and scoots close to Cas so they’re both in the frame. Cas’s smile is brilliant and gorgeous. 

“Shit,” Dean says a few hours later, glancing at the sun. “We’ve got to head back if we want to make it by full dark.” 

“Let’s stay here tonight.” 

“Are you insane?” 

“You camp during your expeditions, don’t you?” 

“Dinosaurs are a different ballgame than bears, Cas. What about that thing we’ve heard at night? You don’t think it might want a little snack tonight?” 

“You’re welcome to head back,” Cas says, “but I’m staying.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Dean groans. “Fine.” 

Cas bumps his shoulder against Dean’s. “Thank you.” 

They pick a tree along the ridge and tuck up against the trunk among roots rising out of the ground like sea monsters. As dusk is starting to set in, one of the minmes makes a long, rumbling distress call, and a monster bursts out of the trees. 

“What the fuck is that,” Dean says in a harsh whisper. 

“I believe it’s a cryolophosaurus,” Cas whispers back, “but there’s only been one skeletal specimen and — it wasn’t in the binder.” 

“Goofy looking motherfucker,” Dean says, trying to cover the fear. There’s a distance between them and the dinosaurs, but still. 

The cryolophosaurus stalks towards a family of parasaurolophus. They trumpet the alarm and attempt to create a circle to protect their young, but the carnivore is faster and snatches one of the juveniles in its jaws. Cas winces and Dean does his best to tape it, though probably nothing will show up in the descending dark. 

“Look at the way they tried to protect the young,” Cas whispers, scribbling in his notepad. 

_ “Tried  _ being the key word,” Dean says. 

While the cryolophosaurus is distracted by its kill, the valley clears out, leaving Dean and Cas alone on the ridge to watch the feeding. Dean has spent enough time around carnivores that he isn’t surprised or shocked by the sight, but Cas looks a little green in the low light as the cryolophosaurus devours its horn-billed prey. 

The dinosaur raises its head, meat hanging out of its jaws, and looks around. For a moment it seems to look straight at Dean and Cas, then it picks up the parasaurolophus carcass and stalks back into the forest. 

Cas lets out a slow breath. “Do you see animals hunting often?” 

“Sometimes.” 

“It’s fascinating. Horrible, but fascinating.” 

Dean nods. 

The moon rises. The valley is quiet, just the sound of jungle insects to fill the silence. 

“Can I ask you something?” Cas whispers into the moonlight. Dean nods, and Cas says, “Are you uncomfortable with me being gay?” 

Dean blinks. “Well, I didn’t know you were gay until just now.” 

“Oh,” Cas says. “You’d just seemed a little odd about the showers. Like you thought I might — look at you.”

“I wasn’t expecting a locker room situation,” Dean says with a wince. “And didn’t just want to come out and say I’m trans on day one.” 

“Oh,” Cas says, brow furrowed, and then, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” 

Dean stares at him. “Did you just —?”

Cas grins. Dean punches him in the shoulder. They both relax a little after that. 

It’s a long night. They chat idly, but not much happens until the hush before sunrise is interrupted by the pounding footsteps of a handful of brachiosaurs. They’re elegant in the half-light with their long necks and dainty heads, and Dean finds himself smiling like the first time he saw a lion pride up close. Beside him, Cas is barely breathing. 

Dean takes photo after photo as the herbivores filter back in to the valley, lining up at the lake to drink. It’s like a saharan watering hole, a tenuous truce between species, and it’s just as incredible to watch. 

As it’s starting to get hot, a T-rex bursts through the trees at a quick walk, heading straight for the lagoon. 

“They’re not running,” Cas says. “They’re not circling.” 

“Looks like fresh blood on her snout,” Dean says. “They know she’s not hunting.”

Sure enough, the T-rex ignores the other animals to bend towards the water, taking long gulps. Dean records the whole scene, all the way until the tyrannosaur heads back into the trees. 

They watch the herbivores for awhile longer, taking notes and pictures, but mid-morning Dean insists they head back to the bunker. Even though he’s desperate for a meal other than protein bars and a sleeping bag, they take a leisurely route back towards the bunker. They see more compys and the stegos again. Just like before, the adults stop the curious juveniles from getting too close to Dean and Cas, but otherwise ignore them. The compys make Dean a little more nervous — it seems like a group of them follow for awhile, darting in and out of the foliage. 

And then there’s a crunch under Dean’s feet. 

He looks down to see a piece of eggshell, now shattered underfoot. A piece of what must have been a very, very big egg. 

Everything goes silent. 

“Dean,” Cas says, low and alarmingly even. “We need to get away from here.” 

“No shit,” Dean breathes, taking two steps backwards. 

“I believe we’ve just walked into a tyrannosaurus nest,” Cas says, still careful. 

“That sounds like bad news.” 

“Yes, I think we may want to consider leaving before —” 

There’s an ear-splitting roar that seems to go on forever, and then a second one joins it. 

“The bunker’s not far,” Dean whispers. “Follow me.” 

Just as the two tyrannosaurus adults get to their feet in front of them, Dean takes off running, Cas close on his heels. 

One of the tyrannosaurs roars again. Dean stumbles, and Cas catches him by the arm so he doesn’t fall. Pounding footsteps start behind them. Cas makes a strangled, terrified noise, and somehow Dean manages to find a little more speed. 

_ I’m going to die,  _ Dean thinks, not for the first time in his life.  _ This is it.  _ His imagines, viscerally, what it would feel like to have those teeth dig into his flesh, to be lifted off the ground in huge jaws. His lungs clench in an attempt to bring in more air. 

Just as the bunker comes in sight, the steps behind them stop, the tyrannosaurus giving a final warning roar. Dean and Cas don’t stop running until they’re inside the bunker, and they lock all three of the containment doors via steel bars. 

Inside —  _ alive! alive! alive! —  _ Dean collapses onto one of the cots, shaking and gasping for air. Cas rushes to the bathroom and Dean hears him retching into the sink, then the water running for a long time. 

“Sorry,” Cas says when he comes out. He sits shakily at the end of Dean’s cot. “I’m not going out there again.” 

Dean gives him a weak, crooked smile. “You’re full of shit.” 

“Do you think they’ll follow us here?” 

“They could’ve just killed us and they didn’t,” Dean says, reaching to squeeze Cas’s knee. “So maybe not.” 

“They were protecting the nest.” 

“Yeah, seems like it.” 

Cas seems to realize his pack is still on and twists to get out of it, pulling his notebook out. It looks a little battered after their week on Isla Sorna and he scribbles on the last few pages, brow furrowed. 

After Dean’s heart has finally slowed down a bit, he says, “Want to finish off the whiskey?” 

“So I said, ‘What was I supposed to do with that lion, Charlie?!’” Dean says, gesturing expansively, while Cas bursts into laughter at his side. 

“It sounds like coming to an island with live dinosaurs really isn’t the dumbest thing you’ve ever done with animals.” 

“I’ve done some pretty stupid stuff, I know,” Dean says, grinning. “But what doesn’t kill you makes for a great story, right?” 

“Yes, I can’t wait to tell people about the time I was chased by a tyrannosaur,” Cas says, deadpan. 

“I just wish I had pictures of it.” 

Cas shudders. “I may never sleep again.” 

“I’m pretty sure they can’t get in here.” 

“‘Pretty sure’ isn’t as comforting as you think it is.” 

Dean nudges Cas with his shoulder. “I’ll protect you.” 

“You’re a liar, Dean Winchester.” 

“I’ll even share my sleeping bag.” 

“Sure,” Cas says, rolling his eyes. 

“Seriously,” Dean says. “Might be hard for me to sleep tonight, too.” 

Cas stares at him, long enough that Dean should look away, but he doesn’t. Cas’s eyes are a rip tide, pulling him under, and Dean barely bothers to fight it. Finally, Cas says, “All right.” 

“I need a shower first.” 

“Probably a good idea,” Cas says. “Should I wait?” 

Dean shrugs. “Cat’s out of the bag now, so whatever.” 

They shower quick and in silence, then stand in front of the sinks, towels wrapped around their waists, to brush their teeth. Dean frowns at his face’s clumsy attempts at wildlife-adventure scruff and tries to remember if he packed a razor. Probably, though he doesn’t remember where he put it. 

Cas was worried that Dean would think he was looking, so Dean should probably work harder to stop  _ himself  _ from looking. Cas has been hiding delicious muscles underneath oversized shirts, the kind Dean wants to put his mouth all over, and he catches himself staring at Cas’s back as he pulls on a t-shirt.

And then Cas drops his towel to step into a pair of boxer briefs, and  _ that ass.  _ Jesus, Dean is going to hell for being a fucking creep. 

Dean jerks his eyes away when Cas turns around, but not quick enough to miss Cas’s blush.  _ Good job, asshole,  _ Dean thinks. He considers apologizing but doesn’t. 

Cas flees while Dean is still fumbling with his clothes, and when Dean goes back into the main room, Cas is standing awkwardly next to Dean’s sleeping bag, his own sleeping bag and pillow in his arms. He looks adorable with his hair a damp whirlwind from rubbing at it with a towel. 

Dean unzips his sleeping bag and spreads it wide for the both of them, then Cas spreads his own over top for them to climb under. Dean flips the light and they climb under in the light of Cas’s phone. Once it goes off, it’s nearly pitch black. 

“Last time I had a sleepover like this, there was a lot more hair braiding,” Dean says. 

“I’m sorry to disappoint.” 

“It’s hard to imagine you as a disappointment,” Dean says, because it’s easy to say too much in the late dark. 

“Tell that to my parents,” Cas says. 

“I will. What’s their address?” 

Cas huffs a laugh, then shifts closer. Not touching, but it would be easy to reach out, to curl up against his broad chest. Dean suddenly aches, startled to realize how long it’s been since he touched another person for more than a handshake. 

“This might be weird,” Dean says, “but do you think I could hug you?” 

After a moment’s hesitation, Cas says, “Yes.” 

Cas falls into Dean’s arms easily, wrapping his own around Dean’s middle as Dean squeezes his shoulders. Cas is warm and strong all along Dean’s front, smells good like pomegranate shampoo. 

“Thank you,” Dean whispers. Neither of them pull away. 

“You’re welcome,” Cas says back, holding Dean tighter. 

Out of nowhere, a bone-deep exhaustion hits Dean. “Goodnight,” he whispers, and falls asleep in Cas’s arms. 

Dean wakes up with a warm weight draped over his chest and soft hair tickling his mouth. Cas is still heavy asleep, breathing deep, and Dean spends long moments just enjoying the feel of another person so close. 

Dean drifts back to sleep. When he wakes up the second time, Cas is spooned up behind him, one of his legs slotted between Dean’s and a hand flat on his belly where his shirt has ridden up. 

“Mornin’,” Dean murmurs, and Cas hums sleepily in response. 

And then Cas must wake more fully, because he jerks backwards — Dean is suddenly cold — and says, “I’m sorry, I —”

“It’s fine by me,” Dean says. He reaches back and blindly grabs Cas’s elbow, tugging gently. 

Slowly, like Dean might spook, Cas curls around him again. “It is nice.” 

“Been a long time since I had a good cuddle.” 

Cas nuzzles against the back of Dean’s neck, his breath warm. “Me too.” 

“I figured, with the whole re-virginized thing.” 

“That’s rude,” Cas says, giving Dean’s hip a gentle pinch. 

“Hey! You’re the one who said it first, not me.” 

“I thought drunk embarrassments were in the vault.” 

“News to me, buddy.” 

“My dad used to call me that.” 

“Mine too. Are daddy issues in the vault?” Dean turns in Cas’s arms to show his grin. Cas looks sleep-mussed and unfairly beautiful and Dean almost stops breathing. He’s bonded with plenty of people over danger-of-death situations before — even fucked some of them — but they’ve never looked so soft in a way that makes Dean ache for more mornings cuddled together under the blankets. Or under a sleeping bag with the dawn roar of a tyrannosaurus in the distance. “That thing’s like a rooster.” 

“Mmhmm.” Cas separates from Dean, then stretches slowly with a nearly-pornographic moan. “The floor really is better than the cot, but I’d still prefer a bed.” 

“Got a nice bed in your RV?” 

“I spared no expense in that area.” 

“Damn. That hotel was the first time I’d been in a real bed for awhile.” 

Cas opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, then blushes and covers it up with, “Let’s have breakfast outside. Maybe the compys will come by again.” 

“Roger that,” Dean says. He squeezes Cas’s shoulder as he crawls out of the sleeping bag and heads for the bathroom.

Cas follows, and they brush their teeth standing side by side again. Dean does find his razor and shaving cream, but it was a terrible idea because then Cas is shaving next to him, too, and Dean has been dying to get his hands on Cas’s scruff since it started coming in in earnest. 

Something about the way Cas turns his head this way and that, exposing his throat, is almost unbearably sexy. Dean would take him to bed half-shaven. 

“You’d look good with a beard,” Cas says out of nowhere. 

Dean flushes. “Too bad I’m not very good at making one. Apparently all the T in the world can’t get me anything but a patchy disaster.” 

Cas snorts. “I didn’t notice any disaster, but if you insist.” 

“I do insist,” Dean says, grinning over at him, then leaning down to rinse his face. 

Marching north through the jungle, Cas says, “I want to see the cryo again.” 

“That big one?” 

“Yes.” 

“After watching that thing fucking devour that juvie, I’m not sure I want to look for it. We’re a lot tastier.” 

Cas raises an eyebrow. “You think so?” 

“Well,  _ you _ are,” Dean says, flashing a smile. 

“Are you always this incorrigible?” Cas says, but he looks pleased. 

“Generally.” 

“Stop taking pictures of me.” 

“Stop looking all rugged and handsome.” 

Cas stumbles on a tree root but manages to keep his footing thanks to Dean grabbing his arm. “You’re mocking me.” 

“I’m not,” Dean says. “But if you really want me to stop, I will.” 

“I’ll allow it, if you allow me to take some of you,” Cas says. Before Dean can protest, he continues, “I handle very delicate bones for a living. I promise I won’t drop your camera.” 

“If we see something cool, you can take a picture of me. Deal?” 

Cas squints like he’s doubting Dean’s integrity, but says, “Deal.” 

Mid-morning, there’s the shake of the earth and the crashing sound that Dean now associates with  _ dinos in the underbrush.  _ He and Cas pause and slip close against a tree trunk just in case. There are too many rumbles underfoot for it to be a single dinosaur, so Dean hopes that means it isn’t the cryo. Goofy-looking or not, it had gobbled up a dinosaur bigger than Dean without any trouble. 

A juvenile comes into sight first, trotting with head held high, the frill framing its face almost soft looking, like the bones hadn’t fully solidified yet. Its horns are almost comically small compared to the size of its face. 

Cas gasps. Dean glances over, grinning, but stays silent for Cas to have his moment. 

An adult triceratops lumbers behind the juvenile, and then a second adult behind it with another juvenile at its side. Dean and Cas had seen a group of triceratops out by the lake, but this time they’re close enough to see the individual pebbles of their mud-brown skin. 

Dean holds his camera up to his eye and clicks through a stream of shots. It’s their lucky day, because a few of the animals even pause to munch at leaves, just feet away. 

“Dean,” Cas murmurs. “I get to take a picture of you now, don’t I?” 

Something about the smile in the corners of Cas’s lips makes Dean blush. He covers it up with a grunted “whatever” and hands over his camera. Before he can give any instruction, Cas is snapping pictures, several in a row of Dean looking like a sweaty idiot in the Isla Sorna jungle. 

Cas grabs Dean’s elbow and turns him so the triceratops are behind him, which is Dean’s least favorite place for dangerous wild animals to be, but he holds the position long enough for Cas to take a couple more pictures before snatching the camera out of his hand and turning around. 

“Don’t put shit that can kill you at your back,” Dean hisses. Cas just shrugs, unrepentant. 

The feeding triceratops take a couple final bites and then continue on. “Let’s follow them,” Cas says, and because Dean’s stupid for handsome men, he agrees. 

It’s a good day. No predators — they just quietly follow the triceratops for a few hours, Cas stumbling over foliage as he tries to take notes and walk at the same time. Dean takes a lot of pictures, and only a third of them are of Cas. Dean’s kind of enchanted by the way Cas’s brow furrows and the way he bites at his at his bottom lip when he’s thinking. He’s glad he’ll have pictures to remember it by. 

After a shower and some calories, they climb into the sleeping bag bed together without discussing it. There’s a moment where there’s an awkward negative space between them, and then Cas reaches out, his hand landing on Dean’s bicep. He slides it downward, slowly enough to leave goosebumps in the wake of his touch. Over Dean’s elbow, down his forearm, circling his wrist. 

Dean twists his hand until they’re palm to palm, murmurs, “Cas.” 

“Yes?” Cas responds, a little breathless. 

“I’m gonna kiss you now.” 

“Good.” 

Dean huffs a laugh. It’s a bit of a fumble in the dark and his mouth finds Cas’s chin before the kiss lands true — they both giggle a little — but it’s a good kiss. A good first kiss, a good thousandth kiss. The kind that makes Dean’s hands tingle and heart stumble. 

Dean’s hand leaves Cas’s to slide into his hair and pull him closer until they’re flush against each other, legs intertwined. The second kiss is good, too, and the third, and then Dean loses himself in Cas, the sweetness of his tongue and the bite of his fingernails through Dean’s shirt where he’s gripping Dean’s hip. 

Dean shudders when Cas nips at his bottom lip, then again when Cas’s hand pushes under his shirt, big and hot and rough. “Ok?” Cas asks, a whisper between them. 

“Fantastic,” Dean says, then shoves at Cas’s shoulder so he can straddle his hips, the sleeping bag blanket falling to puddle over Cas’s thighs. Cas gasps and Dean says, mouths still brushing, “Want to de-virginize again?” 

“Things were going so well, and then you had to say something ridiculous.” 

Dean grins. “I think you like it.” 

“Lord help me, apparently I do,” Cas says before tilting his chin to steal a kiss. 

They break apart when there’s the roar of a T-rex not far away. “Do you think they’re protecting the nest?” Cas says. “There may be scavengers who try to steal the eggs.” 

“Think about that later,” Dean says, pulling off his shirt and then maneuvering Cas out of his. 

“Fine,” Cas says, sounding like he’s pouting, and Dean laughs before they’re kissing again, hotter and deeper as they’re skin to skin, Dean grinding down where he can feel Cas getting hard in his boxers. 

Cas brushes a thumb across one of Dean’s nipples, then pinches gently at Dean’s gasped encouragement. Dean nips along Cas’s jaw when he pinches harder, leaves wet kisses down the lovely column of his neck, murmurs against his collarbone, “I want to suck your cock.” 

Cas’s hand squeezes Dean’s shoulder almost painfully tight, the other still worrying at his nipple. “Is that a yes?” Dean asks. 

“Yes,” Cas says, voice deep and rough. Dean presses a hand flat to Cas’s chest and can feel his heart pounding. 

Dean takes his time, exploring Cas’s body with his mouth in the dark. It’s exhilarating to have Cas panting underneath him, soft sounds bubbling out of his throat as Dean licks and carefully bites at his nipples and then lower, the muscles in his stomach jumping against Dean’s lips. 

Dean slides out of Cas’s lap so he can pull his boxers down and off. Dean wraps a hand around Cas’s cock and gives a loose stroke, just testing the weight of him, hard and velvet-soft against his palm. And big in a way that will stretch Dean’s jaw deliciously, could fill him up so he sees stars with each thrust. 

“This — this might be embarrassing,” Cas says. “It’s been a long time.” 

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” Dean says, pressing a soothing kiss to Cas’s hipbone before licking just underneath the head of his cock. There’s a vein there that Dean follows down with his lips and tongue until he reaches the base. Cas’s fingers clench in his hair, and Dean can feel himself get wetter, aching to be touched. 

Dean takes Cas’s cock into his mouth slowly with gentle sucks and shallow bobbing of his head, savoring. It’s been a long time for him, too, and even longer since he had anything but a quick-and-dirty fuck with people he didn’t have any particular feelings for. It’s different with Cas and Dean wishes he could see Cas’s face, whatever expression goes along with his moans and death squeeze on Dean’s shoulder and in his hair. 

“Dean,” Cas gasps, and Dean hums around him in response. “I’m — close.” Dean hums again and relishes the way Cas’s hips jerk up, going deep enough for Dean to choke. 

Dean  _ loves  _ it, loves even more the way Cas’s cock swells impossibly harder right before he comes down Dean’s throat. “Oh god,” Cas gasps as Dean swallows around him, taking everything he has to give. 

Dean pulls off slowly, sucking Cas clean as he goes, ending with a swipe of his tongue over the head of Cas’s cock for a final taste. Cas’s hand is trembling a bit when he slides it out of Dean’s hair to cup his jaw, tender and sweet. 

Dean shifts back up to share Cas’s pillow, smiling in the black. “Good?” 

“Yes,” Cas says, letting out a long exhale. “You’re very good at that.” 

Dean laughs but it cuts off when Cas pulls him in for a deep, languid kiss. Cas’s hand slides down to the top of Dean’s boxers, then pauses. “What do you like?” 

“That is a very long list,” Dean says with a grin. “But right now? I really want you to finger me.” 

“Do you have lube?” 

“Don’t need it.” 

“Oh,” Cas says, a little breathless. “Then yes, I can do that.” 

Dean raises his hips to pull off his boxers, and then Cas’s hand is sliding down Dean’s belly as they kiss. Dean spreads his legs further in invitation, one leg draping over Cas’s thigh. 

Cas’s fingers brush over Dean’s cock first, and then again when Dean whimpers against his mouth. Cas’s mouth leaves Dean’s to kiss his cheek, his jaw, nibble at his ear lobe, as he presses and circles. It’s torture, Cas’s fingers so close to where Dean wants them, but it’s so good at the same time. 

After minutes or years, finally Cas’s hand moves lower, seeking where Dean’s wet and desperate for touch. “I wish I could see you,” Cas murmurs against Dean’s ear as he slides a finger into him. 

“Next time,” Dean says, arching his hips to try to take more. 

“Next time,” Cas agrees, though he sounds a little surprised. 

Cas pushes in a second finger and Dean whines, back arching as Cas strokes inside him. Cas leaves gentle kisses on Dean’s neck, along his shoulder, as he fucks into Dean with his fingers, the heel of his palm a tease against Dean’s cock. 

“Right there, right there,” Dean manages to get out in between gasps. 

Cas focuses on that sweet spot that makes Dean’s thighs tremble. “You’re so beautiful,” Cas whispers against his jaw. “Can I make you come like this?” 

“Yeah, just — a little harder — oh god, like that.” 

Out of nowhere and everywhere, an orgasm rips through Dean, clenching and riding down on Cas’s fingers for  _ more more more.  _ Cas gives it to him until Dean goes limp, heart racing and breathing hard. 

Dean whines when Cas pulls his fingers out and he can feel Cas smiling against his cheek. “Holy shit,” Dean says. His legs are still shaking. 

Cas smooths his hand over Dean’s belly, then up to gently turn his chin for a kiss. It’s a lazy, affectionate kiss, the kind you share when you’re both sated and soft. 

Dean turns on his side so they can get closer, one of his legs slipping between Cas’s. Cas strokes his hand through Dean’s hair and says, “This is a very pleasant, but unexpected, turn of events.” 

“I’m irresistible.” 

“Yes, you are.” 

“So are you.” The T-rex roars again and Dean says, “That thing is a cockblock.” 

“It tried but did not succeed.” 

“I can’t believe you started talking to me about dinosaurs while we were making out.” 

Cas shrugs under Dean’s hand. “I’m an academic. Easily distracted by my fixation.” 

Dean feels a little pathetic for asking, but he does anyway. “Were you thinking about dinosaurs the entire time?” 

“Oh, no. After that, a tyrannosaur could have broken in and I would not have noticed.” 

Dean laughs and tucks under Cas’s chin, squeezing him close. “Let’s go back to the lake tomorrow.” 

“I’d love to.” 

As Dean’s drifting off, Cas presses a kiss to the top of his head and whispers, “Sweet dreams.” 

The walk to the lake is long and hot, muggy in a way Kenya usually isn’t. Cas grumbles and wipes sweat off his forehead with his shirt a lot, giving Dean a glimpse of his tantalizing stomach.  _ I kissed him there last night,  _ Dean keeps thinking. It feels a little unreal in the daylight under Costa Rican clouds. 

“Is it going to rain?” Cas asks in between grumbles.

Dean looks up, though he can’t see much through the heavy cover of jungle trees. “Maybe.” 

“At least it would be less hot.” 

“Don’t count on that, Casanova.”

Cas scowls and Dean bumps their shoulders together, offering a smile. Cas concedes, “Fine. At least I won’t be covered in sweat anymore.” 

“I kinda like you covered in sweat.” 

“Sure you do,” Cas says. He sounds oddly self-deprecating, like they hadn’t woken up pressed together, Cas’s hair tickling Dean’s face where he was wrapped around him from behind. 

“Hey,” Dean says, gut twisting. “We’re cool, right?” 

“Of course. Why wouldn’t we be?” 

“We fucked and now you’re acting a little weird.” 

Cas sighs, focusing pointedly at his feet as they move through the foliage. “You don’t regret it?” 

“Jesus, do  _ you?”  _

There’s a pause, and then Cas says, “No. I couldn’t regret anything with you.” 

Dean reaches out and, despite the sweat, grasps Cas’s hand in his. “Then we’re on the same page.” 

A pack of compsognathus scampers past their trail, a few of them stopping to look at Dean and Cas, heads cocked. “Should I, uh, be worried about them?” Dean asks. 

“I don’t believe so. Compys are scavengers and most likely won’t attack two healthy animals. Though their saliva is believed to be mildly poisonous.” 

“Great. Let’s make sure not to show any weakness, ok?” 

“Agreed.” 

They climb the hill towards the ridge over the lake hand-in-hand, even when they have to go single-file between trees. Dean’s not used to this, touching for no other reason than it feels nice to be close to another person. 

The herbivores in the valley are largely the same — sauropods, aralosaurus, minme, parasaurolophus, triceratops — with the addition of a couple of ankylosaurs at the lake’s edge, spiked tails swinging lazily as they drink. Dean lets go of Cas’s hand regretfully to take pictures of the scene, then pauses to switch to his zoom lens for close-ups of each species. 

“Amazing,” Cas whispers, as if to himself. Dean nods in agreement anyway. 

Before Dean can get too many photos, the rain arrives, going from dry to pouring buckets in an instant. Dean hurries to put his camera away in his waterproof pack. They duck under a tree that offers a little protection, but still, they’re soaked within minutes. Dean grins at Cas, who looks a bit like a drowned rat with his too-big shirt clinging to him and his hair plastered to his head. 

“It’s still hot,” Cas says, raising his voice to be heard over the downpour. 

Dean leans close to speak into Cas’s ear. “Told you.” 

Cas sits against the trunk of the huge tree and Dean follows. He’s pretty sure this is the same one they slept under before, the roots rolling out of the ground to create a little haven for just them. Their shoulders touch as they watch the animals below, and then Cas reaches for Dean’s hand, weaving their fingers together and squeezing. Dean blushes without knowing why. 

The rain stops for awhile. “Too bad we can’t get down there to get dry,” Dean says, gesturing at the expansive plain below them drenched in sunlight. 

“That seems unsafe, even if we could get down.” 

“Yeah. You’d be surprised what dickheads herbivores can be. Carnivores have a system — if they’re hungry and you’re easy prey, they attack. If they ain’t hungry, they’ll leave you alone,” Dean says. “Herbivores, though? Some of ‘em will fuck you up no matter what.” 

Cas leans over and kisses Dean. He’s wet with jungle rain but so sweet it makes Dean’s breath catch. “Thank you for your insight,” Cas murmurs between them. “You seem to think I don’t know anything about animal behavior.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” Dean says. “Just — you don’t hang around with them as much. Don’t want you to get any ideas.” 

“I’ve got ideas,” Cas says. He’s looking at Dean’s mouth and not out at the valley. 

“Like — like what?” Cas shrugs a little, but Dean can tell it’s a lie and pushes. “Like what?” 

“Now that we’ve determined we don’t feel weird, mostly my ideas are about all the ways we could be fucking right now.” 

“Oh,” Dean says, blushing. “Want to give me some examples?” 

Instead of replying, Cas kisses him again, hot and demanding, and then he climbs into Dean’s lap, their mouths parting for only the briefest moment. Cas slides his hands into Dean’s hair, grips it to tilt Dean’s head where he wants him. Dean follows, hands clenching Cas’s shirt on his sides. 

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean murmurs. Rain starts misting down, the skies teasing over the jungle canopy. 

“Shut up,” Cas says, and Dean laughs against his mouth before their tongues are touching again, a tantalizing slide of want. Or maybe  _ need, _ because it’s been a long time since Dean was this desperate for someone. 

Dean unbuttons Cas’s shirt just to get his hands on the soft, bare skin underneath, Cas moaning his encouragement. One of Dean’s hands drifts down Cas’s chest and then stomach to find him hard in his shorts, straining against the zipper. 

Dean blindly fumbles with Cas’s belt, button, zipper, boxers, until he can wrap a hand around his cock and stroke. Cas shudders and Dean says, “You gonna let me suck your cock again?” 

Cas stares down at him, mouth swollen from rough kisses. “If you want.” 

Dean pushes at him and Cas scrambles out of his lap,  _ oofing _ into the ground. Dean tamps down a laugh so he can bend over Cas and swallow down his cock instead. The first time Cas bucks his hips up, Dean manages to get a hand into his own shorts and on his own cock, whining at the first touch. 

“Are you —” Cas starts, but it’s cut off by a moan as Dean slips his tongue over the head of his cock before sliding down again. Cas’s hand clamps down on Dean’s shoulder where he can feel the movement of Dean’s arm as he touches himself. 

Dean likes sucking cock. He knows some see it as an act of submission, but he’s never felt more powerful than he does now, Cas moaning and writhing in the rain, all because of him. All because of the pleasures of Dean’s mouth. 

Dean comes first, so good he has to pause to rest his forehead against Cas’s stomach, breathing hard. 

“Did you —?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. His voice is rough, fucked out, from Cas’s cock. 

Cas’s hand on Dean’s shoulder gentles and he strokes through his hair, oddly tender. There’s the long bellow of one of the animals by the lake, but they both ignore it as Dean takes Cas down again. 

Dean pulls out his best tricks this time and relishes in the feeling of Cas coming on his tongue. While Cas is recovering, Dean carefully tucks him back inside his boxers and does up his shorts, then collapses against the tree trunk, not bothering with his own. Cas’s hand reaches out and rests on his bare shin, a gentle comfort, as they both catch their breath. 

“Good?” Dean says, flashing Cas a smile. 

“Yes, though I feel as if I shirked my duties a bit.” 

“There are no duties with sex,” Dean says with an eye roll. “If we both had fun, then it’s all good.” 

“I had fun,” Cas says, pushing himself upright and starting to button his shirt. 

“Me too.” 

“Then it’s all good.” 

“Yup.” 

They share a goofy endorphin-high smile, then Dean says, “I don’t have the equipment for rain.” 

“Neither do I,” Cas says, gesturing at his soaked notebook. They both laugh. 

“Want to head back or watch awhile longer?” 

“Let’s stay,” Cas says. 

Dean takes his hand. He can feel Cas smiling, even when they’re both looking out over the plain. 

The next few days are full of exhausting slogs through the mud and rain. They come across an abandoned psittacosaurus nest and Cas loses his shit, forcing Dean to take a million boring pictures of the egg fragments. Cas carefully collects a few into a specimen bag for later study once they’re back home. 

“Where is home anyway?” Dean asks. 

“Well, I have the RV.” 

“No house waiting for you somewhere?” 

“Just the RV. Between digs, I usually stay at campsites.” 

“You, uh, ever come through Texas?” 

Cas squints over at him and nearly smacks head-first into a tree. “I haven’t had reason to.” 

“I travel a lot, but I have a place in Austin.” 

“Oh,” Cas says, and then,  _ “Oh.  _ You want me to visit?” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Of course I want you to visit, dumbass.” 

There’s an odd little smile on Cas’s face. “I could.” 

“I’ll be in the US for at least a couple months once we get out of here if you want to swing by.” 

“I’m flying back to Montana after New York, but I can drive down after that.” 

“Too bad I can’t drive with you. I love a good road trip.” 

“If you want to, you’re welcome to join me.” 

“You’re not tired of me yet?” Dean says, grinning. 

Cas says, very seriously, “Not at all.” 

“Then let’s do it.” 

On the last night, they take separate showers but before Dean can think about getting dressed, Cas backs him up against the wall and kisses him, slow and deep. 

“Hi there,” Dean says, breathless and smiling. 

“Hello,” Cas says, nuzzling against Dean’s jaw, nipping at his throat. “When we get back to the hotel, I’m going to throw you on the bed and fuck you until you scream.” 

“I can’t wait.” 

“But tonight, I’d like to go down on you.” 

“Until I scream?” 

Cas tilts his head to the side, looking over Dean slowly. “Preferably.” 

“Show me what you got,” Dean says, ducking out of Cas’s arms and rushing to their sleeping bag bed. 

Cas follows slower, staring at Dean as he approaches. His gaze is so intense that Dean almost feels self-conscious, but then Cas is lowering himself down next to him and kissing him. 

Cas takes his time like Dean did the first time, using his mouth to find all the places on Dean’s body that make him shiver. By the time Cas is kissing the inside of Dean’s thighs, spread wanton underneath him, Dean is hard and wet and begging between gasps. 

“Patience,” Cas murmurs, but he doesn’t tease much longer before he runs his tongue slowly over Dean’s hole and up to his cock. 

Cas teases the head of Dean’s cock with flicks of his tongue, coaxing him harder until Cas can take him between his lips, sucking in a way that makes Dean’s head fall back as he chokes on a moan. 

Cas hums softly, still rubbing his tongue against the head of Dean’s cock as he sucks. Dean loses himself in it, thighs trembling around Cas’s shoulders. 

Cas licks his lips when he pulls back. “Can I finger you?” 

“Hell yeah,” Dean manages, smiling shakily. 

Cas’s fingers find where he’s hot and wet, sliding two in slowly, giving a few shallow thrusts before he takes Dean’s cock back into his mouth. “Oh god,” Dean whispers, and then it’s just gasps and whimpers and moans, high on Cas’s touch, the insistent rub of his fingers, the delicious warmth of his mouth. 

It builds slowly like this, heat coiling in Dean’s groin and outwards until his hands shake where they’re clenched in Cas’s hair. When Dean comes, it’s so good he goes dizzy with it, riding down against Cas. Cas just takes it, keeps sucking until Dean goes lax, chest heaving for breath. 

Cas’s chin is shining wet when he sits up and he wipes it with the back of his hand. An aftershock shudders through Dean at the sight. Cas smiles, looking rather pleased with himself, and Dean grabs his shoulder to pull him down for a grinning kiss. 

“That was really fucking good,” Dean says, then grabs Cas by the hips and flips him onto his back. “My turn.” 

Austin isn’t a small city by any means, but NYC is huge and bright and loud and cramped. Neither of them are particularly comfortable in this environment, Cas even less so in a fancy button-up and slacks. Dean didn’t bother dressing to impress, sticking to his standard non-expedition outfit of jeans, plaid, and scuffed boots. 

The elevator ride up to the executive suite at the Talbot Foundation building seems to take forever. It’s glass on one side so Cas watches them rise over the streets below while Dean stares steadfastly at the doors. 

Despite the security cameras, Cas reaches out and squeezes Dean’s hand. Dean squeezes back. 

Finally the doors open. An assistant is there to greet them, a redhead with a sweet smile that must be hiding daggers underneath to work for someone like Bela Talbot. Dean catches the flash of red soles on her stilettos as she leads them to Bela’s office. 

Bela stands up behind an expansive glass desk to shake their hands, then they all settle into their chairs, Cas’s spine ramrod straight. Dean wants to squeeze his hand now but just gives him a small smile instead. 

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Bela says. “How was your trip? I see you’re both in one piece.” 

“There aren’t words to describe it,” Cas says. 

“It was awesome,” Dean says. 

“I’ve invited you here to discuss the terms of your NDA.” 

Dean groans inwardly. Somehow he’d forgotten about the NDAs.

“If you disclose the location of the island, my lawyers will make you wish you’d never been born,” Bela says. “However, I don’t intend to prevent you from sharing your findings overall. In fact, the senior editor at Talbot Publishing is ready to discuss book deals immediately. I’m also able to procure a spot at conferences or art galleries anywhere your hearts desire.” 

Dean’s speechless. Cas is speechless. Finally, Dean says, “So, like, the Louvre?” 

Bela shoots him an unimpressed look. “Anywhere within reason, Mr. Winchester.” 

“You’re going to win a Pulitzer,” Cas says, his smile big and gummy. 

“If the photos are any good, you just might,” Bela says. She passes a small contract across the desk to each of them. “The updated NDAs.” 

Dean and Cas take their time looking over it, but it’s just like Bela said: tell anyone where the island is and the wrath of the Talbot Foundation will come down on them; otherwise, feel free to tell anyone who will listen about the dinosaurs. They both sign, Dean with a scribble and Cas with a careful script. 

They hold hands in the elevator on the way down, sharing giddy smiles. As they walk out into the sun, Dean says, “Now for the next adventure.” 

“I’m glad it will be with you.” 

Dean whole-heartedly agrees. 

**Author's Note:**

> [sharkfish on tumblr](http://sharkfish.tumblr.com)
> 
> [rebloggable tumblr post](https://sharkfish.tumblr.com/post/643947033303171072/at-the-edge-of-chaos-on-ao3-paleontologist-cas)
> 
> i'm sorry i'm so terrible at answering comments, but please know that every single one is so precious to me and keeps me going on the rough days. <3 thank you for being here!!


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